Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“Know what it sounds like?” He ignored the doctor and nurse who exchanged notes on a clipboard in the room.
“Unhinged?” I offered with a scrunch of my nose.
“Romantic as fuck.”
“Oh, it really wasn’t.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then busied my hands by scrubbing my phone screen clean with my sleeve. “Trust me. Dylan was here the entire time, complaining about her heartburn. At some point we discussed that time you broke your arm at six when you fell off a tree and were so scared you peed your pants.”
His smile remained calm and praising. “The statute of limitations has passed on that particular case. Besides, I bet you peed yourself too, that very same day.”
“Row, I was still in diapers.”
“That’s pure semantics.”
“I see you have a lot to catch up on.” The doctor looked between us. “Any more questions, Mr. Casablancas?”
“Yes, where did you get your degree—the School of Hard Knocks?”
“Thanks so much, Doctor!” I interjected, balming Row’s rawness.
Dr. Gorga nodded swiftly. “I’ll leave you to it.” The nurse and doctor slipped out of the room, and now we were truly alone.
“Wanna know something?” I brushed a lock of onyx hair from his eye. It was exceptionally unfair that he looked like carnal sin even in a hospital gown.
“If it’s coming from you? Sure.”
“You’re not a terrible boss, despite your crankiness. I mean, Taylor actually likes you. You should’ve seen him in action today. He even called his dad to ask some medical questions.”
“That’s a full circle right there.” Row smiled tiredly.
“How so?”
“I saved him from going into premed. He fucking hated the idea.”
“Taylor wanted to be a doctor?” I tilted my head. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything that wasn’t making delicious, highbrow food.
“Was expected to,” Row corrected. “He walked into my restaurant to get drunk and forget about his finals. Flashed me a fake ID even though he was clearly underage. I was working the bar that evening to teach a new temp the job. I whipped him up somethin’ to eat and he commented that the chicken could use some ras el hanout. I hired him as an intern on the spot.”
“God. You’re nice, aren’t you? That’s your worst-kept secret.” I grinned.
“Best kept.” He reached to press his finger to my lips. “Don’t tell anyone. Everyone thinks I’m an ass.”
“I don’t think you’re an ass,” I pointed out.
“That’s because I tap yours,” he responded wryly. He scanned my face for a beat, then let out a sigh. “Listen, we need to talk.”
My hackles rose in an instant. “We do?”
“About me selling Descartes.”
I knew he was going to remind me that he was leaving, that this was all temporary, that we had tough decisions to make. My heart couldn’t take it. So I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He groaned, his body hardening into stone.
“Nice distraction, but I need more water.” His lips floated over mine. I immediately pulled away, curling my fingers around the handle of his jug of water before realizing it was empty.
“I think you’re out. I’ll go get some, unless you want my Gatorade?”
“Fucking hate Gatorade.”
“Okay, Sour Ass Kid.” I rose to my feet before he stopped me.
“Big fan of your germs, though. Give it here.” He brushed his knuckles over my cheek. I grabbed the half-finished bottle and lowered the straw to touch his mouth. He clasped his lips around it and sucked before releasing the straw. A blue drop lingered on his lower lip. I dipped my head and swept it away with my tongue. It tasted better off his lips.
I was about to straighten up, but he caught my wrist, tugging me closer. His tongue traced the outline of my mouth, the tip of it sliding down my chin and neck, until it disappeared in my cleavage, where he sucked one of my tits into his mouth through my bra. Tantalizing pleasure cascaded through me.
“Lock the door, Dot.”
“You’re inju—”
“It’s just a little scratch. Need you now.”
“It’s a stab wound.”
“Let me assure you, sweetheart, my blue balls hurt more.”
I stood up on wobbly legs, like a baby zebra taking its first step, and stumbled to the door, rolling the lock with a soft click.
“Come ride my dick, Dot.”
I drew the line at bursting his stitches open. “We’re not having full-blown sex.”
“Why?”
“Because as much as you annoy me, I don’t want to kill you.”
“Fine. Let me eat you out.” We stared each other down, but my inhibitions were falling apart quicker than a Shein outfit. He raised his eyebrows innocently. “I’m in the hospital, Cal. I’m not gonna have anything tasty or substantial for days.”
There was something seriously wrong with our generation—and yes, I blamed everyone my age collectively—considering what I did next. I climbed atop his hospital bed with my back to Row, peeled down his blanket, and raised his hospital robe. His dick sprung up straight as an arrow, a pearl of precum crowning the tip.